


When A Woman Is Around

by Bearslayer



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Duchess Eve, F/F, Knight Villanelle, Literal slut shaming (because Gemma is a prostitute) but it's all consensual, Multiple Orgasms, Prostitute Gemma, Vaginal Fingering, we got gay awakening, we got repression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:14:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bearslayer/pseuds/Bearslayer
Summary: A repressed Duchess yearning for more is escorted to the market by a cocky female knight who is more than willing to provide it.
Relationships: Gemma/Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 19
Kudos: 79





	When A Woman Is Around

**Author's Note:**

> This is too long and I got very carried away with the whole theme I am so sorry. Also I know there are probably 15 other fics with this title but THIS is the only one with Gemma so who's really winning here?

The market was bustling with activity, crammed with every sort of person. Vendors shouted out their wares while shoppers flooded every available space, haggling prices or simply yelling to their hearts content. Buskers filled spots against buildings, musicians playing in the hopes that coin would be dropped into their hats or cases. Prostitutes leaned against open doorways, well dressed and modest to adhere to decency standards but exceptionally obvious. Laborers made their way expertly through the throng to restock merchants booths. It was so loud it was overwhelming, but the Duchess Eve Polastri had always loved the chaos. A good marketplace was the lifeblood of a city, indicative of its health. Were there commoners present or only visitors from other places? How much crime took place between the market stalls? Were there children shopping with parents? Was there a heavy guard presence?

It was rare that Eve had been allowed to wander the markets of the cities she visited with her husband, Duke Niko Polastri, but she had managed to slip loose while he was away on a hunt. It was so tiresome to be watched over, controlled, treated as some frail flower when she was so full of passion and curiosity for the world, but it was a Lady’s lot in life. Had she been born to different circumstances, she often wondered where life would have taken her. Would she have been something exciting - a vagrant or a performer? Maybe she would have been an artisan of some sort, with a stall in a market like the one she currently walked through? There were so many possibilities that were never an option to her. She had been trained to be a Nobleman’s wife her entire life, learning how to behave like a proper Lady and to bear his children, but even an early arranged marriage couldn’t quell her curiosity.

She had managed to avoid bearing any children so far, intentionally taking a potion each month that, to hear the alchemist tell it, would keep her childless for as long as she desired. The alchemist was thankfully discreet and not easily shaken; when Niko had one of his men interrogate her, she kept true to the story they had agreed on years ago. The story that Eve was of weak constitution, that the potion was to ward off the illnesses that came more easily to her than others who had grown up in the harsher climate that was their home. She knew the dangers involved with not bearing a Noble’s children; that she could be cast out, divorced and disgraced, but she also knew that Niko was a weak man who loved her more than he cared about her apparent infertility. Perhaps one day she would find the courage to leave her life behind, to spend the rest of her life coming to places like the market she was being led through.

Until that day came, she delighted in her momentary escape, eyes wide as they tried to take in everything they could. No one paid her any mind save for the Knight that the keep’s Steward had insisted on assigning to her. He had wanted to assign more than one, but the feast that would take place that night required most of them to be present. Eve had been steadfast in her desire to get to the market, though, badgering him, insisting to the man that she not only had permission but that her husband would be furious if he heard she was being given trouble about it. For the sake of keeping the peace, he had pulled a specific Knight from their duties.

“Duchess Polastri… While I have reservations about allowing you to market without hearing the order from the Duke himself, I simply haven’t the time to continue this conversation indefinitely. You will be accompanied to the market for three hours by one of our Knights. If I were able, I would send you with a detail of at least three, but we are woefully shorthanded. I can assure you with highest confidence that the Knight assigned to you will watch over you and protect you with the vigor of three. She is well-respected among her peers and a decorated soldier of significant reputation. Her title is well-earned. Ser Villanelle, step forward.” The Steward, exasperated from Eve’s insistence, demanded.

The Knight stepped forward, bowing her helm-covered head respectfully. The Steward leaned up and in to whisper something to her. She said nothing at the time, giving only a brief nod as she led Eve out and away from the Keep, down to the city proper. She remained silent until they were away entirely, only speaking when they were in the thick of it. Through the helm, her voice was strong and accented, cutting through the background noise with ease. Eve could imagine that voice on a battlefield, commanding those under her with efficacy. She found herself leaning in even though she could hear her just fine; woman Knights had always fascinated her in a way she couldn’t quite figure out but had always attributed to her curiosity about women who had taken unconventional paths.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for in the market, Madam?” She asked, looking to Eve. She could just barely make out her eyes through the slit in the helm. They were large and green? Hazel? It was difficult to tell; Eve had to restrain the strange urge to reach up and remove the helm in order to see them better.

“No, good Ser. I just enjoy markets. It’s a foolish thing.” Eve said, dismissing her own desires (as she often did).

“What’s foolish about enjoying things?” The reply was quick and clear, and Eve was taken aback by the easy way the Knight questioned her. Her brow raised in surprise, unused to being addressed so casually by a guard. Normally her words were received with a simple string of yes and no and gentle acquiescence to demands.

“Nothing, I suppose.” She responded weakly. A soft chuckle from beneath the helm brought a bit of color to her cheeks.

“I’ve always preferred being in the city to being in the Keep. I come out as often as I can.” Villanelle responded. It was then that Eve became aware that she was still being led; the Knight was still in front of her. She gave a vaguely irritated huff and moved to her side, bringing an arm up to take her elbow. The gesture made Villanelle slow and fall into place beside her, arm bending to give her a better handhold. Eve smiled at the show of respect, glancing up at her.

“Do you come to the market often? You must know all the good places.” Eve watched as the crowd parted for them. She wondered if it was out of courtesy because she was obvious nobility, or if it was because of the Knight who escorted her. She had switched dresses to something less flashy and more utilitarian, so she expected it was because of Villanelle.

“I know many places, Madam. I don’t know that a Lady of your standing would have any interest in the places I think are good, however.” Villanelle said. Was that a hint of teasing in her voice? Eve found herself more interested in the conversation than anything going on around them, her eyes trained on the polished steel helm. She found herself more interested on the person beneath, who the Steward had spoken so highly of.

“You presume to know my interests, Ser Villanelle?” Eve’s tone was experimental; she returned the tease gently, cautious enough that she could easily disguise it as righteous indignation if it was taken the wrong way.

“I would never presume, Madam Lady Duchess Eve Polastri. I can only go by the things I know to be true of most Noblewomen unless you tell me differently, however.” The amusement was evident in the way Villanelle layered multiple titles together erroneously (something that would earn her a reprimand if she had done it in the Keep, or if Eve reported the behavior). She wanted to know what her lips looked like, and if she grinned to herself within the armor.

“Tell me about the places that _you_ think are good, Good Ser Knight Villanelle.” Eve returned, both deflecting the question and returning the teasing.

“Well, so long as you asked, I suppose I have an obligation to answer. There is an arena I like to go to from time to time when I miss fighting… I enjoy Knightdom but unless there is a war on this armor is mostly ornamental. I go there and drink and fight, then I spend my winnings on pretty clothes that I don’t wear.” She explained, only adding another layer to the mystery.

“Pretty clothes that you don’t wear? Do you often speak in riddles?”

“It was no riddle. I don’t wear the clothing because I bring it to someone who likes to be dressed up, in another place I think is good that is no place for a Lady.”

“This someone… a friend?” Eve asked, both hands now resting in the crook of Villanelle’s elbow.

“I certainly enjoy her company.” The thread of amusement that had entered her voice had yet to leave. The movement of the marketplace seemed to have fallen away, Eve’s interest in it waning in favor of the enigmatic Knight who brought her through it. Eve’s curiosity had always been her most confounding, compelling feature, more suitable for a scholar or wandering sage than for a noblewoman - or so she had always been told. She had been told it was unbecoming, that she would be better off spending her time on other pursuits, like fostering a heavier social presence or having babies. Wondering too much about the world and the people in it wasn’t her place, according to proper society.

There was something about Villanelle that made her want to push, to ask the questions that she so clearly laid out for Eve to ask. She wanted to see what she looked like, she wanted to know what had made her become a knight. The Steward had said she earned her title, which was a diplomatic way of saying that she hadn’t bought it like many Knights did. She had fought for it. Had she proved herself in some battle in some war? Was she the child of a noble who had shirked her role, or the child of a commoner who wanted more for herself? Had she even wanted to be a Knight, or had she just been unable to refuse such a title? Woman soldiers weren’t exceptionally rare, but ones who ended up Knights were. And this friend she bought pretty clothes for - a lover?

“That’s not much of an answer. I’m enjoying your company but we’re still strangers to one another.” Eve pointed out, digging for more. She wanted a _story_.

“I could always take you to meet her, if you’re that curious. But, again - it’s no place for a Lady like you, so you might be opposed.”

“Or you could just give me a real answer, Ser. I would very much like to know. Is this person… is she… a lover?” Eve asked, voice dropping low with the scandal of it. It certainly wasn’t unheard of, and a Knight was allowed to do as they pleased within reason - but having a lady love and being so open with it? Her heart raced in a peculiar way. She was so intrigued she barely noticed that they had reached the outskirts of the market.

“Why do you want to know so much about me when it was I that asked about _your_ interests?” Villanelle returned.

“Because you’re much more interesting than I am, and I want to know more about you. I don’t often come across Knights who are women… and to think that you might have a lover who is also a woman… Well, that’s -” Eve started, beginning to trail at how ridiculous it sounded, and quietly thankful when Villanelle interjected… until the subject of interjection became clear.

“Are you often so interested in the lives of other women and their lovers, Madam Polastri? Does the Duke know?” Villanelle stopped walking, turning her body to face Eve. They were in the mouth of an alley - when did they get there? Her brows furrowed, eyes lowering, unable to meet Villanelle’s steel-beneath-steel gaze. Her hands dropped to her front, toying with the lacing of her bodice. She didn’t know how to answer the query, disarmed by it, by the boldness of it, by the implication. An odd current of fear manifested in her throat, odd because she had no reason to be afraid. Her interest in women wasn’t out of the ordinary, was it? She wasn’t interested the way a man would be interested in women, after all. She had only ever been with her husband.

“What’s there for him to know? It isn’t strange to wonder how other women live, is it?” Eve protested, looking back up.

“Of course not. I was just curious, Madam. No offense meant… to answer your previous question, though - yes. She is my lover. My favorite one.” Villanelle said. Eve, in all her damnable tendency to be open with her expressions, gave a little gasp. Her ‘favorite one’? How many did she have? Were they all women? Her mouth opened, and Villanelle laughed. “God, your face! You look so scandalized.”

“Don’t mock me, Ser… it’s very rude.”

“My apologies. Really.” Villanelle reached over to take her hands, bowing her head again. Respectful and without mockery.

“It’s forgiven. You’re just a shocking person, it seems. Or, perhaps I’m just easily shocked. There are so many things I want to know and see…” Eve looked back up, focusing once again on Villanelle’s eyes.

“And you aren’t allowed to. The trappings of nobility. You must be well educated but you mustn’t learn a thing. You aren’t allowed experiences; you’re barely allowed out of the sight of your husband.” Villanelle agreed. She spoke like it was something she had experienced, but Eve dare not ask how she knew for fear that it was just that she was horribly transparent.

“Well…” Eve began, throat going dry, “I have some time before he returns from his hunt. If you’re as trustworthy as the Steward made you seem, perhaps I could… maybe meet this lover of yours. Because I’m terribly curious.”

“It is my duty to protect you, Madam. From anything that might cause you harm, no matter what that may be.” Villanelle confirmed. There was a promise in her statement, an implied oath that Villanelle would keep anything that happened during their trip close to the chest. Her presence was overwhelming, and even through plate and leather covered hands Eve could feel the warmth of her. She could certainly see how the Knight would have multiple lovers. A tinge of jealousy muddied her thinking, a silly thing - this was still a stranger. She had no reason or need to be at all jealous. Also, she had a _husband_ , she shouldn’t even be thinking such things. She wasn’t even interested in women in that way.

She took a moment to mentally berate herself, glancing down at their joined hands. Out of the keep for an hour, away from Niko for two, and already she was pining after a _woman_ , one whose face she still hadn’t seen? She was just exited by the scandal. That had to be it. Surely it was foolish of her to let her mind wander to other possibilities, ones full of forbidden things, of adultery and excitement and — she closed her eyes tight for a moment, shaking her head. She couldn’t have such thoughts, could she? She shook her head, looking back up with the intention of telling her to return them to the keep.

“Take me to meet her.” She found herself saying instead. Betrayed by her own mouth - by the time it left her lips she couldn’t stop it.

“As you wish. Take my arm, it isn’t far away. No one will see us if we go this way.” Villanelle said, turning to her side again, offering her arm. Eve took it, biting her lip lightly.

She shouldn’t be letting this woman lead her away to meet her lover. She shouldn’t be entertaining her own thoughts - the indecent ones, the inquisitive ones she had managed for so long to press down, to file away in a deep place in her heart where no light could touch. She should be at the keep waiting for her husband’s return, a faithful wife that did what was expected of her. The sheer banality of the internal protest made her stomach turn so heavily that she forced herself to refocus; for that afternoon, she wasn’t Niko’s Wife, Duchess to his Duke. For that afternoon, she would let her curiosity take over. What harm could it do to let loose a little? Villanelle had given her the assurance she needed. She was a Knight and would protect her. What good would betraying the trust she gave do? She had nothing to gain from disgracing a foreign Duchess from a territory that had excellent history with her own. This was no scheme. Just a Knight humoring her fancies.

“Through here…” Villanelle mumbled, opening a door.

The building was unassuming from the outside, but its purpose became abundantly clear upon entry. It was like walking into another world, one full of sin and hedonism. The air was heady with the scent of perfumes and oils, and every surface was soft and inviting. The front room of the place had several couches; on one laid a beautiful woman, naked save for a jeweled chain around her waist, her head laid on her arms as she slumbered. She looked like a painting, a ray of sunlight bathing stunning bronze skin. She didn’t realize she was staring until she heard Villanelle chuckle, gently patting her hand.

“That’s Aisha… Isn’t she beautiful? Like an angel when she lays in the sun like that. Or a cat.” Villanelle said, gently, regarding the sleeping woman through the eye slits of her helm with fondness.

“Is she…?” Eve asked, wondering if Aisha was the lover she had mentioned.

“Oh, no. I just appreciate her beauty. Gemma would be jealous if I took up with any other girl here.” Villanelle shook her head.

“You brought me to a whorehouse?” Eve suddenly realized, blinking slowly as she looked around.

“I prefer the term brothel.”

“You brought me… to a brothel?!” Eve reiterated. It hit her heavily - she was a noblewoman in a brothel. A whorehouse. A house of ill repute, and she had barely reacted to it. She couldn’t be there! What if someone she knew saw her? What if — Eve’s thoughts cut themselves off with alarming speed as Villanelle brought her hands to her head, lifting off the helm and pushing down the coif beneath it. The first glimpse of her was enough to render Eve brainless, stunned by the sight of her. She was _breathtaking._ If Aisha was a painting, Villanelle was a sculpture come to life. Smooth ivory skin, high cheekbones, a long neck, those _eyes._ Her hair was short, shaved down at the back and sides, leaving a crop of short blonde up top that she ran her still gloved hand through.

“Please try to relax. Nobody here is going to speak a word about you being here, okay? No one here knows you. Do you want to meet her or not? We can leave, if that’s what you desire.” Villanelle gave the barest hint of a smile. It tugged the corner of her lips in the most enticing way.

“No, no. I told you to bring me here… I want to meet her. She’s a…” Eve trailed off, unable to say it aloud.

“A prostitute?” Villanelle filled in for her, brow raising.

“Yes.”

“She is.” Villanelle chuckled, looking to a table towards the back wall. There sat an older woman, fully dressed and somewhat out of place - the Madame? She was reading a book, entirely disinterested in their presence.

“So she lays with other people? Don’t you get jealous, if you consider her your lover?” Eve asked. She was unable to fathom the arrangement, confused at what it actually was. Did Villanelle love her? Was it unrequited?

“Why would I ever get jealous? I lay with others as well - she’s just smart enough to get paid for it. She spends her days and nights laying around in fine clothing and comfortable beds, getting fucked whenever she desires, eating and drinking what she wants. If anything, I’m jealous of her life.” Villanelle laughed as Eve blushed, walking with her to the lady at the table. “Missy, is my girl busy?”

“Hm? No, I don’t believe so. I would go so far as to say she’s the opposite of busy; she’s spent the last few days moping around waiting for you to visit her. You’re ruining her, you know. Whenever you come ‘round she won’t work for days after.” The woman scoffed, gesturing towards the stairs. “You know where she’ll be. And if you’re bringing your friend you best both pay the rate when you’re done.”

“I’m not here to —” Eve began to protest, but was cut off by Villanelle once again. The audacity of her!

“Thank you, Missy.” Villanelle grinned, leaning across the table to kiss her cheek. Missy flicked at her dismissively, never once lifting her eyes to look at them. She once again began to lead Eve away and towards the stairs; Eve couldn’t let go of the statement. For some stranger to think that she was some sort of depraved whoremonger was unthinkable. She couldn’t let it stand, but Villanelle was dragging her up the stairs.

“Does she think I’m here to do something indecent? I’m only here to meet your friend, I’m not doing anything of that sort!” Eve insisted, staring up at her in distress.

“She doesn’t care what you’re here to do, Madam… She didn’t even look at you. Perhaps, for now, you can let go a little?” Villanelle looked to her as they scaled the steps.

“I’ve never done anything like this before. It’s - it’s out of character for me.” Eve protested, a hand bunching in her skirts to lift them, wanting to avoid dragging them along the stairs.

“Madam - what would be in character for you, then? To ignore the curiosity that so compelled you to lie to the Steward about your husband’s permission to travel to market? If I may be so bold as to make an observation -” Villanelle said as they reached the top, still watching her.

“Is there any stopping you from your observations, Ser Villanelle?” Eve raised a brow. She wanted to slap that lovely face.

“On very rare occasion, a beautiful woman can convince me to hold my tongue. You’re more than welcome to try.”

“Are you always so charming?” Eve grumbled it, lowering her eyes. She couldn’t bear to keep meeting Villanelle’s.

“I sleep from time to time.” Villanelle said. The confidence of her tone was maddening - Eve’s eyes went wide as she was pulled in closer, long fingers coming to rest on the curve of her hip. “My observation, Madam, is that I believe you are behaving exactly within character, and that perhaps you’ve pushed down your nature for the sake of husband and home. You needn’t confirm or deny - just know that I hold no judgment towards you for it, if that is the case. I ask only that you do not judge my lover or myself in return. If that isn’t the case, I still beg your kindness when meeting her. I haven’t ever brought someone to meet her.”

Eve’s mouth opened, a response rising up and then fading into nothing all at once. She could focus on nothing but the hand on her hip, and on the wide, captivating eyes staring into her own. Villanelle was bold, too bold, but god help her Eve was intrigued, taken by her words and manner. It was little wonder that she had multiple lovers. Any woman who spared other women a glance was _sure_ to be taken by her. Did Eve fall into that category? Surely not! Her eyes were beautiful, but that seemed like more of a universal truth; there was no deviance in appreciating beauty. The fact that she understood Eve so deeply so quickly was alarming, however. All she could do was give a gentle smile and pray silently that Villanelle removed her hand from her hip before she started to feel faint. She wondered how well fitted her armor was, and if her fingers were really so long.

“Thank you. Her room is right up here.” Villanelle said, releasing her and continuing to lead her.

Soon, they were at a door, and Villanelle knocked twice, leaning into the door. Was it locked, or was she being polite? Surely there were no locked doors in a whorehouse? Eve fidgeted where she stood, wondering so many things. What did the woman look like; would she answer naked, the way Aisha was? Was she in love with Villanelle, and that’s why she wouldn’t work after Villanelle ‘finished up’ with her? What did they even _do_? She understood how men worked, having been married to one for longer than she could put a year to - how did it work between two women? She tucked her curls behind her ears, hands sliding over the back of her neck, to a sensitive area she sometimes stroked at her nape. Her mind and vision were so dually out of focus that she didn’t notice the door opening until she was being gently led by the hand into the room.

“Villanelle!” A high-pitched voice cut through the fog in her mind, followed by the soft padding of bare feet on a stone floor and the clink-smack of armor meeting flesh.

She looked up to regard the scene. Villanelle dropped Eve’s hand to catch the woman, who had practically flung herself into her arms. The woman wasn’t nude but may as well have been; the outfit she wore was strange, covering nothing on her sides. She could just make up that it was comprised of a short vest that would not cover her breasts if she lifted her arms, with a collar that held up two lengths of green and gold silk that ran down her midsection in the back and front. Her hair was long, down to the middle of her back and a color she couldn’t remember ever seeing on another person in the past; auburn, complimented perfectly by the colors of her outfit. It reminded her of autumn in the forest. Villanelle hugged her tight, lifting her off the floor with ease.

“Gemma… Did you miss me?” Villanelle asked, chuckling, swinging her lightly in her arms. Gemma’s legs hung loose below her, swaying with the movement.

“I always miss you… you’ll stay with me today, won’t you?” Gemma leaned back, hands pulling back to cup her cheeks. She trusted Villanelle to hold her firmly, not using her arms or legs to hold herself up.

“Only for a little while. You’re being very rude, Gemma, as I’ve brought company!” Villanelle brought a hand back to give her a light smack to the bottom, causing Gemma to give a… delighted sounding yelp.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Gemma turned to look at Eve, giving her the first good glimpse of her face. She was stunning as well, but so much softer than Villanelle, all wide eyes and full cheeks. Her eyes were a light, inviting brown, and her cheeks held what seemed to be a natural blush.

“Gemma, this is Eve…” Villanelle trailed off, omitting her title on purpose and watching Eve’s face for reaction. Would Eve be offended or use it as an invitation to be somebody else? Would she accept it or leave in a hurry?

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Gemma.” Eve said, that odd fear from before resurfacing as she allowed Villanelle to strip her of her title in front of the whore. The fear ran through her throat and pooled somewhere inside of her in the most peculiar way; she wanted to run away just as badly as she wanted to sit and watch the two interact, fascinated by the ease in which they held each other. The fear of being someone new, unbound by title and nobility, free to craft whatever story she wished but unable to form a thought coherent enough to start the process. They were both so gorgeous that she once again found herself fiddling with the laces of her bodice just for a way to keep her hands occupied.

“A pleasure, to be sure. You’re absolutely stunning! And what a pretty name; Eve.” Gemma returned, voice as sweet and light as a spring breeze. It might have sounded mocking if her face didn’t match that enthusiasm, compliments rolling from her lips honestly and easily.

“Isn’t she gorgeous? She’s from the North; I’m escorting her around town today, and was curious about you after I mentioned you.” Villanelle agreed, the compliment paired with her gaze only strengthening Eve’s terror. There was something else there, though, a thread below the fear that made her heart race and race, thrumming away in her chest so heavily that she was sure they could see it if they looked close enough. She was hot all over, and the atmosphere in the room felt so terribly heavy, stifling with alluring scents and deep red fabrics.

“You’re talking to beautiful strangers about me? You must really care.” Gemma gave a giggle, running her fingers through Villanelle’s cropped hair, pressing her forehead to hers. It was a sweet, affectionate gesture that made Eve burn with sudden jealousy that she couldn’t pin down; did she want Gemma to stroke her hair, or did she want to stroke Villanelle’s? She maintained her composure, lowering her eyes; they widened as Gemma stage-whispered the next part, “Did you bring her here to play?”

“I do care,” Villanelle mumbled; Eve still couldn’t bring herself to lift her eyes, trying to relax her breathing and still her mind. She was sure she heard a whisper follow it, but couldn’t detect the words. A noise followed, and Eve drew in a sharp breath as she caught sight of Gemma’s bare feet, following them as they moved to her front. Soft, terribly soft hands wrapped around hers as Gemma stood in front of her. Normally permission would be asked by a stranger before daring to touch her, but these two had no such reservations, taking so gently and sweetly that she felt powerless to refuse them.

“You look so terribly frightened, Eve. Please, don’t be.” Gemma assured her, thumbs sliding over the backs of her hands.

“I’m not frightened.” Eve snapped, pulling her hands away and looking up at her. Gemma was tiny; shorter than she was, even, and up close her eyes seemed even larger. Large and mesmerizing; Eve found her gaze drifting away down just to avoid being sucked into them. That was her second mistake, as her gaze landed directly on Gemma’s breasts. They were _ample_ , perfect, the bottom curve just visible under the vest. Her skin was so cream-white and perfect that it almost begged to be marred. Eve closed her eyes instead, backing away from her a few paces until her back hit the wall. Backed against a wall, being observed by two objectively beautiful women, mind mired in a confusion of many sorts. She wanted to know more about them and to run for her life - for her life in the safety of the keep, the safety of her stupid, broad husband with that thick, scratchy facial hair he was so proud of. It wasn’t just that she found herself desiring the two that was working her into a frenzy; it was that the act of wanting them had suddenly made her so aware of the things she hated about what she already had.

“Gemma, come help me with my armor.” Villanelle said.

Eve’s eyes opened to see Gemma moving to Villanelle, who had taken a seat on the circular bed in the middle of the room. With them away from her, Eve could breathe again, if only just a little. She relaxed against the wall and watched, curiosity overriding her anxiety once again. Gemma climbed on to the bed behind Villanelle, hands moving about her torso and sides to undo the straps fastening the chestplate and arms of her plate armor. Her fingers moved with the practiced grace of someone who had done it so often that the memory of it was etched into her muscles. How long had they been lovers? Had she taken Villanelle’s armor off dozens of times, or hundreds? The breastplate and arms were dropped off to the side of the bed as Eve watched silently. Villanelle offered Gemma no assistance in the process, letting her strip it from her as she saw fit. How much would she take off? Just down to the black gambeson she wore beneath, or more?

“Eve, you’re being so quiet when before you had a response for every word. Surely you aren’t intimidated by her?” Villanelle asked as Gemma knelt to get the straps of her chausses, removing her leather gloves. Her fingers _were_ that long; Eve’s heart fluttered uncomfortably.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not intimidated. I’m just - I told you before I’ve never been in a place like this. This is new, and I do not know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing with myself. Are you planning on getting entirely nude and - I can leave the room, if the two of you need time. I’m sure Missy is a wonderful conversationalist.” Eve practically spat the last two sentences, pointedly returning her gaze to the floor.

“I’m only getting out of my armor. It’s heavy and I’m sweating. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can put it back on. It isn’t my aim to upset you, Eve.” Villanelle said it softly, hand moving to rest on Gemma’s hand at her side.

“… I’m sorry. No, no, please. Do what you wish. I’m just nervous, I think. This is new -” Eve began, feeling foolish.

“Can I get you some wine, and a seat?” Gemma asked, looking up at her from her spot on her knees. A particularly filthy thought crossed Eve’s mind at the sight; Gemma looked right on her knees, natural. She was so eager to please, so responsive to commands. She wondered how often she ended up in that position, legs slightly parted as she serviced whoever had the coin to receive her. Did she prefer women, or did it not matter to her? Did she pick and choose who got her mouth? Eve’s cheeks burned, and she smiled faintly, placing the cool backs of her hands against her cheeks in an effort to calm herself.

“Yes, I think that would help.” She conceded, and Gemma rose up to comply.

“Please try not to be nervous. Nothing that happens will be without your consent, Madam. Nor will anything that happens leave this room.” Villanelle looked to Eve as she worked to take off the last bit of her armor, laying it noisily atop the rest. Gemma dragged a comfortable looking chair to her, then padded off to fetch a decanter of wine on a table on the far side of the room. Eve sat, and found a glass in her hand right away, with Gemma bent slightly to pour the wine for her. It _had_ to have been deliberate to have bent at such an angle, putting those ridiculous breasts right at eye level. Eve raised a finger to stop the pouring, and then, when Gemma paused, she lifted the glass and emptied half of it. She then tapped the rim to have her refill it, which she did with a giggle.

“There you are… I don’t want you to be nervous. If I can do anything to help, you only have to say the word. Anything at all.” Gemma told her. Her tone was infuriatingly light and gentle. Before Eve could respond, Gemma gave a squeak as she was pulled backwards by the same long fingers that Eve had been fixated on earlier. Villanelle gathered her into her lap, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist.

“Hush. She knows.” Villanelle told Gemma, leaning in to place a kiss to her cheek. Gemma wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leaning into the affection, thirsty for it. Eve found herself sympathizing; who wouldn’t want the Knight’s affection? Even without the armor on she was impressive. She imagined she was all muscle beneath her gambeson, lean and strong. It was no small feat to walk with such ease in heavy armor, and to still look so flawless when it was off was nothing more than intriguing. A tinge of envy crawled back into her throat, which she promptly drowned in another splash of wine.

“Now, what did you want to know, Eve? You said that you were curious about the one I called my favorite lover. Ask whatever you like, she won’t be offended.” Villanelle promised, pushing aside one of the strips of fabric barely covering Gemma; doing so revealed the curve of her bottom and her thigh. Her thighs were thick and looked devilishly soft. Eve worried for a moment that Villanelle was a mind reader, because she bought a hand to her thigh to squeeze it as Eve watched. She had to force herself to look back up to meet her eyes.

“What makes her your favorite?”

“A number of things. I always know where she’ll be, so I never have to worry about finding her. She’s beautiful, which is always good. She’ll do anything I want…” Villanelle began - when she trailed off, Eve frowned.

“Aren’t those all things that go along with being a whore?” Eve said, brow raised. Gemma bit her lip, giving the faintest pout.

“It’s more than that - I could ramble my troubles to her for hours and she would keep them and soothe me. I only pay her price to avoid Missy’s ire; Gemma has tried to stop me from it many times. I’ll ask you again to pass no judgment.” Villanelle’s tone was even, but her words were protective.

“I apologize.” Eve said, brows furrowed.

“Only I get to mock her for being a whore. Isn’t that right?” Villanelle’s evenness broke quickly, a smirk crossing her lips as she squeezed Gemma’s thigh again.

“That’s right… but if she wanted to, I might not be offended, in the right circumstances.” Gemma shifted on her legs, grinning.

“The right circumstances?” Eve couldn’t stop her damnable mouth from voicing the curiosity that plagued her.

“She likes it when the right person is cruel with their words while fucking her. To remind her of her place. You’d be amazed how slick she gets… Tell me something, Eve, since I’ve answered your question.”

The way Villanelle interspersed such filth with a gentle request disarmed Eve instantly; she wanted to protest the turn the conversation had taken, but Villanelle had expertly distracted her with just a soft tone and that piercing gaze. They both watched her, Gemma’s lids heavy from the touches and the magnetism of Villanelle’s presence, Villanelle’s narrowed with purpose. Her mind reeled at the possibilities behind that look. It was almost predatory; like Villanelle would eat her alive if she didn’t answer correctly. Or did answer correctly. She couldn’t be sure. Villanelle had sworn to protect her, but where did that protection end? What did she intend, now that they were here? The train of thought derailed itself when she remembered that this had been her own doing; she had insisted on meeting her lover. She had been the one to ask the questions, to press Villanelle into divulging private information. She had asked the right sequence of questions to reveal the secret door, which Villanelle had opened; it wasn’t Villanelle’s fault that Eve had walked through.

“It’s only fair.” Eve agreed.

“Have you ever seen another woman in such a state; all spread and begging to be touched?” Villanelle asked. Eve nearly choked on her wine, eyes widening.

“I should think not!”

“Do you want to?” Villanelle persisted.

Eve _wanted_ to choke, now, if only to distract her from the way they looked at her, from the desire welling in her center, coiling tight in her belly. There was no denying how deeply the words affected her, between the tone and the content. She finished off the rest of the glass, damning the fact that it only compounded the heat that stifled her. Between her legs she felt it the worst, Villanelle’s soft purr resonating there even from three feet away. It was a throbbing, as persistent and wet as the beating of her heart, felt with such intensity that she could barely piece together an answer much less a protest. She didn’t need to answer verbally — her body language confirmed it for Villanelle. Gemma shifted on her lap, straightening out, allowing Villanelle to move her as she felt. Eve watched, entranced, as Villanelle’s hands wrapped around the backs of her thighs to lift her legs. Gemma never broke her gaze as her legs were spread, a hand dropping between them to where the fabric still covered her. She bit her lower lip lightly, bunching it up in her fingers.

“Do you want to see, Eve?” Gemma asked, echoing Villanelle’s words. She leaned back into her chest, comfortable in Villanelle’s strong grip.

“Yes.” Eve said, wishing she hadn’t finished her wine; her throat was so terribly dry.

The fabric was pulled away, revealing Gemma fully, a treasure being unearthed. Eve’s gaze dropped to look, throwing her caution and worry aside. She was no Duchess in that moment — just a person with nothing binding her to convention. Eve stared openly, setting her glass down on the floor and running her hands once again through her hair and to the nape of her neck, holding herself. Gemma, spread and just as slick as Villanelle had mentioned, was unashamed as she bared herself. She had heard so many men say so many foul things about a woman’s private parts, and at that moment none of them made any sense to her. Why were all the nicknames they came up with so cruel? A gash, a wound, a slit; why did men need to equate something they desired with such violence? It looked more like a flower to Eve, with petals curling away from the center, pretty and pink. Gemma’s hand slid down to spread herself with two fingers, allowing her to see better, exposing her entrance.

How was it so easy for her to allow Eve to look? She was so brazen, open like she was for Eve’s viewing pleasure. Surely even as a prostitute there was some limit; and for Villanelle to so eagerly allow such an intimate glimpse of her lover… Eve could feel her heart once again pounding, racing in her throat. She had always been told to keep covered, to hide what made her a woman; shame was instilled so deeply in her that staring at another like this made her cheeks burn. But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop — she wanted to touch her, to plunge her fingers inside of her, to see how it felt when she clenched. She wanted to touch the little nub that sat below where her folds met. Another part of her wanted desperately for them to look at _her_ like that, with hunger and longing, to wind up so tightly that when Eve allowed it they would overtake her with more passion than she had ever felt.

“Do you like it, Eve?” Villanelle asked. “To see her like this - does it make you want to touch her?”

“I - I don’t think I know what I want…” Eve whispered, looking up to her. It was a lie wrapped around a truth; she knew that she wanted to touch, to be touched, but didn’t know what she wanted in a more profound sense. All thoughts of her husband had fled the moment she sat down, but he was there in the back of her mind, a chain tying her to a life that she felt she was merely passing through.

“Do you want me to decide for you?” Villanelle’s brow raised. It was, again, the exact right thing to say, lifting the burden of choice from her.

“Yes.” Eve breathed the word.

It was the only prompt that she needed; Gemma was released and placed on the bed beside her, and Villanelle once again rose to full height. The closer she moved, the heavier Eve’s breaths, anticipation igniting a current of arousal in her unlike anything she had ever experienced. When the gap was bridged, Villanelle picked her up straight from the chair, causing her to gasp in surprise. She was just as strong as Eve had thought, if not stronger. How many had she felled in battle with those hands? What destruction and delight could she bring with them? Eve’s legs hooked around her waist, though she was sure that Villanelle could hold her up easily without the added support. She ran her fingers through Villanelle’s hair, briefly wondering what it would look like long, but appreciating the short crop. Villanelle leaned her face in, as if to kiss her — Eve’s eyes slipped shut to receive it, but opened when nothing connected. Instead, she felt her lips brush over her ear.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she was on her knees, how your cheeks burned. I’m going to spread you the way I spread her, and let you use her mouth.” Villanelle told her, walking with her to the bed.

“W- no, that’s fine, I-” Eve’s protest was disjointed and barely there.

“Am I wrong in thinking you want that? The choice is yours if you want to make it, Eve. Say what you want us to do, and we will. I want to see you let go, while you’re with me… to be unrestrained.” Villanelle pressed her lips to her neck, that oh so tender spot below her ear.

“You aren’t wrong. I’m just nervous.” Eve gasped, holding her head to the spot.

“You’re in capable hands.” Villanelle smirked, drawing a bit of flesh between her teeth and sucking.

“They’re certainly strong ones.” Eve agreed, squeezing her with her thighs.

“Do you want my hands, instead?”

“I want both. I want everything.”

Villanelle chuckled into her neck as she sank down to the edge of the bed once again, pulling her mouth from Eve’s neck and leaning back to regard her. The look she gave her made her feel like a bit of a whore, herself — how easily she had gotten Eve into her arms, begging for her attention. How easily she had slid inside her mind, deciphering what she had once thought was a complex puzzle. She had taken her apart, and Eve wanted more. She wanted Villanelle and Gemma to unwind that thing deep inside of her that never seemed to come undone, to bring her the sort of satisfaction she had always desired but had never gotten. She could take the memory of the encounter and let it last her the rest of her days happily if she could just _feel_ for once. Just for the afternoon.

“Then let us take care of you. Trust us — I’ll protect you, remember? You needn’t fret. No one will know save for us three.” Villanelle promised. Eve believed her; she had to, because if she didn’t she would fall headlong back into the doubts that had almost robbed her of the experience not long before. And with Villanelle pulling the dress and petticoat out from under her while they sat, she was unwilling to give it up now.

“I trust you.” Eve whispered, lifting her hips to help her in the process.

“Then help me get this off of you.” Villanelle’s self satisfied smirk was not lost on Eve, who leaned back to unlace the front of her bodice with the clumsy, eager flicking of her fingers. Her fumbling was noticed, and from behind she felt a body pressed to hers - Gemma, small hands sliding around her front to do the work for her.

“Let me help, instead? I like to be included.” As she spoke, Eve could feel her pressing her face against her hair, taking in its scent and softness. Sandwiched between the two, Eve simply closed her eyes, allowing them to strip her, mind awash in thoughts she had never allowed herself to humor before.

“I know you do… that’s why you’ll get to taste her first. I spoil you.” Villanelle chuckled, hands sliding under the skirts and petticoat to feel the flesh beneath. Her hands were not soft but not rough, calloused from years of wearing armor and training with weapons. The strength behind them was well trained and kept at bay by desire and practice; Eve imagined she could rip her to shreds with those hands if the mood struck. The inherent danger of the hands of a Knight that stroked and touched with hunger was a strange thing to cause such a strong jolt of arousal to wash through her, but it did just as heavily as the touching itself. She couldn’t press down the soft moan that breached her lips.

“You do… oh, what a sweet noise you make. It’ll be even better when you feel those fingers inside of you.” Gemma whispered it to her, voice maddeningly high and sweet, as if she understood the scandal of her words. When the lacing was undone the pair carefully lifted the dress up and off; Gemma went so far as to lay it against the chair nicely to avoid mussing it. Petticoat was undone and pulled away after; when it came time for the chemise to be tugged off, Eve paused, hands stilling them.

“No, please - can I leave that on?” Eve asked. What possessed her to ask permission, when it was her body and her clothing being stripped? _She_ was the highborn one in the room, yet she still felt the strange need to make sure. Perhaps she worried they wouldn’t touch her the way she wanted if she was pushy - or maybe it was simply inexperience causing her nerves to flare up. Perhaps — Eve gasped, eyes widening and then sliding shut as Villanelle’s hands ran from the outsides of her thighs to the inside of her chemise, dexterous fingers running from hips to breasts. The exploratory yet purposeful touch was enough to still her racing mind and quicken her already pounding heart.

“Whatever you wish, Eve.” Villanelle assured her, smiling as Eve arched into her fingers, running the tips over her nipples.

“I feel so - so hot inside.” Eve mumbled, not caring how foolish she sounded. She had felt such heat before - arousal came easily and often to her - but there was a different intensity to it this time. It was the beginning of a wildfire in her belly rather than the cooling embers of a flame that never quite caught the way she expected it to; Niko never touched her with such fervor, such _precision_ as the two of them were. Gemma had knelt behind her, hands sliding up and down her back and to her ass. Every part of her was touched except the part that ached the most, and she whimpered pitifully in need.

“Do you want her to taste you —” Villanelle began.

“Yes!” Eve practically shouted it. The chuckle she received in response could have been endearing or mocking, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was nursing the fire, stoking it, making it explode and turn her to ash in its wake.

“Don’t make her wait, now, love… She’s wound up so tightly, she _needs_ relief.” Gemma said gently, hands withdrawing.

“I would never be so cruel!” Villanelle protested, standing up, once again hoisting Eve with her.

“Well, now you’re just lying. You’ve been that cruel to me so many times.” Gemma scoffed.

“Stop talking and take off your clothes.” Villanelle commanded, rearranging Eve easily in her arms, setting her down and then pulling her back against her chest. Behind her now, Villanelle sat, brushing her hair away from her neck and giving the most gentle kiss to her nape. Gemma made a soft noise, unclasping the collar holding up what little clothing she had, shrugging it to the floor. Eve’s brows raised as she watched her, biting her lip as she watched Gemma’s hands settle on the floor, looking up at them. She didn’t respond; the tone of Villanelle’s voice had flipped a switch inside of her. As natural as commanding was to Villanelle, obedience was to Gemma. Eve could certainly see the merits of being on both sides, but was too preoccupied with the hands lifting her by the backs of the thighs, slowly spreading her, to humor the thought further.

She couldn’t bear it, the idea of Gemma and Villanelle staring at her the way she had done to Gemma. She wasn’t nearly as confident, and certainly not so vulgar — she brought her hand down to push the fabric of the chemise to cover her bareness, closing her eyes and dropping her head against Villanelle’s shoulder. She smelled of leather and sweat, but there was something else, something that she fixated on but couldn’t quite understand; a perfume? Sometime just a little sweet, distracting her from how filthy she felt.

“Now now… How can she slide her lovely tongue inside of you if you cover up like that? Move your hands. There’s nothing to be shy about.” Villanelle purred, kissing her cheek.

“I’m not a whore,” Eve complained, “I have every right to be shy!”

“Of course you aren’t a whore. In fact, you’re about to be serviced by one. Look at her, Eve; look how eager she is to please you. She’s so ready her lip is trembling. If you don’t want her to look she’ll close her eyes… she’ll do whatever you want. Shove her head against you, fuck her mouth. _Use_ her.” Villanelle nudged Eve’s head to the side with her nose to once again whisper into her ear.

The flame spread. Eve, emboldened by the lewd words, looked once again to Gemma. Gemma, cowed on the floor, stared up through thick lashes, her breathing labored. She _was_ eager, waiting to be granted permission, and who was Eve to deny the whore her nature? She gave a soft sigh and removed her hand, bringing it to rest on Villanelle, whose legs she rested on as if she were a throne. Bunching up the bottom of the chemise, she gave her a little nod. Gemma didn’t even try to contain her eagerness, crawling closer and lifting up. She kissed along Eve’s inner thigh, but Eve couldn’t bear the tenderness, fidgeting.

“Grab her by the hair if you want. She’s there to pleasure you, not to tease. Tell her what you want.” Villanelle encouraged, squeezing her thighs.

“N-not there… here.” Eve said weakly, fingers threading into thick auburn hair.

Gemma adjusted without complaint, and at the first touch of her tongue, the flame burned out of control. Eve moaned as she lapped her, lavishing attention first on her folds and then dipping between, tongue curling impossibly. At first Eve only barely held her — this changed when she stroked the underside of her clit the first time. Then, something slipped loose inside of her and her restraint was gone. She tightened her fist in Gemma’s hair, pulling her hard against it, gasping a barely comprehensible ‘there’. Gemma was happy to oblige, stroking and sucking and moaning - actually _moaning_ just at the act of eating her.

One of her legs was released, and came to rest over Gemma’s back; Villanelle slid her hand back up the chemise, finding her breasts again. Eve couldn’t decide what to focus on, a heavy fog settling into her mind and vision. Everything was pulsing, pounding, and wonderfully hot, her hips rocking - she could feel Villanelle’s beneath her moving as well. She had just enough presence of mind to pause in her rocking just long enough to sync their motions, wanting to give Villanelle some relief despite her being clothed still. Her action granted her a soft groan and a hand dropped to her waist. Villanelle rocked harder against her ass, adding an element of friction that caused Eve to moan harder as she approached her end. She held Gemma tighter, rolling into her tongue until - until -

The world went white and her body stiff as she came. She gasped and trembled as the two worked her through it, the burn of her orgasm settling into a pleasant throbbing. Gemma pulled away just a little when Eve’s grip loosened, just enough to slide her tongue through her flooded plains, gathering all she could with it. Eve watched as she caught her breath, too aroused to care how filthy it looked anymore. She wasn’t sure how it was possible to want more after that sort of feeling, but she wasn’t satisfied - not yet. Her hesitation had fled.

“God… is it wrong to want more?” Eve asked, looking between the two.

“No… I can keep going as long as you want.” Gemma said, looking up. Her chin and lips shone in the light of the room with Eve’s fluid.

“It isn’t wrong - but Gemma, it’s _my_ turn now.” Villanelle took hold of Eve’s wrist, causing her to release Gemma’s hair.

“Your turn to - ah!” Eve gave a cry as Villanelle lifted her for a third time, catching the bedsheets as she was dropped to it. “You brute!”

“You said you wanted my fingers, didn’t you?” Villanelle smirked, bringing a hand down to her trousers to untie them; Gemma was there to pull them down for her, giggling at the scene.

“I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?” Eve mumbled, eyes once again drifting to Villanelle’s hands; the object of that afternoon’s desire. “Are you are clever with them as you are with your words?”

“Even more clever, I’d wager. No one appoints a Knight based on their conversational skills.” Villanelle informed her, stepping out of the trousers. Eve let her eyes wander down, desperate for a better glimpse of her. As she expected, her legs were long and muscular. Less expected was the sight of Gemma there, wedging herself between them. A glance to Villanelle’s expression showed that she wasn’t even a little surprised; her lids slid shut as her lover began to work the same magic she had with Eve. They opened quickly, though, focusing on Eve.

“Then show me, Knight, what won you your title.” Eve mumbled, shifting to closer to the edge of the bed. She propped her feet on the edge, spreading once again. Unlike when she had first bared herself, she found herself _wanting_ Villanelle to look at her, so much so that her previous reservations about removing her chemise were thrown to the wind. She wiggled out of it, leaving her naked save for jewelry and sweat. Villanelle licked her lips, taking her time running her eyes over the newly exposed features as readily as she ran her hands over them before. The gaze was intense and intoxicating, and instead of embarrassed she felt a peculiar pride welling up inside her chest.

“God,” Villanelle whispered; was she stunned to a whisper at the sight, or by the prostitute between her legs? Eve’s cheeks burned pink again when she was answered, “You’re absolutely gorgeous… I have half a mind to kidnap you and keep you for my own - fuck! For _our_ own. Is that better, you brat? Bite me again and I’ll bruise your backside.”

Between her legs, a soft, content giggle.

“I get the feeling she might like that…”

“It’s like you already knew her.” Villanelle agreed, brows raised as she leaned down to kiss her.

Eve had been entirely unaware of how badly she had wanted to be kissed before, the touch of Villanelle’s lips sending waves of electricity through her. Even without a kind touch the kiss was enough to leave her breathless, and she returned it with enthusiasm. Villanelle did not wait any longer to touch her, which seemed more an act of kindness than anything, drawing her fingers between her breasts and down, down, slowly down between her legs. Her middle and index slid between her labia and caught her already overly sensitive bundle of nerves between them, giving a gentle squeeze, then a roll, and it jolted her even more deeply than before. She brought a hand up to grip the back of her neck, moaning into her mouth.

Eve’s relief was short lived, however. Villanelle spent only a moment manipulating her clit so expertly before sliding further, digits tracing her opening. The tease made Eve whimper, pushing her hips up, suddenly desperate to be penetrated. Instead, Villanelle flattened her hand over her and squeezed her mound, smirking into her lips even as she gave little noises of her own, drawn out by Gemma’s efforts.

“You’re so wet, aren’t you? It’s like nobody has ever paid you enough attention… that’s a terrible thought. If you were mine I’d never let you out of bed.” Villanelle said, punctuating her words with a trail of kisses away from her mouth, down her jawline and to her shoulders. Her fingers continued their torture, dipping between and sliding, avoiding every spot she wanted to be touched. Was this what she considered clever? To be so maddening that Eve felt she could cry?

“Please, Villanelle…” She whimpered, nails scratching at the back of her neck.

“Please what?” Villanelle returned, smiling against her chest as she went lower.

“Stop teasing me so! How you can stay so composed with her between your legs and me beneath you… Just - please! Push them in.” Eve begged, pride discarded with her chemise.

“Whatever you wish.” Villanelle repeated her words from before.

And then, those fingers, two long, strong, spectacular fingers plunged into her, slow and easy, meeting no resistance from Eve’s body. Eve’s head fell back, welcoming them inside, moaning at the way they curled to press her walls. She did not thrust them - instead, she moved them inside in a way she had never, ever felt, stroking some spot inside of her she had been, up to this point, entirely unaware of. A spot that made her cry out louder than she intended, body arching like a woman possessed. Villanelle moaned against her chest, pulling one of her nipples into her mouth as she massaged her. Her thumb moved to stroke her clit again, and Eve was brought so suddenly and violently to climax that it was hard to believe that Villanelle was moving so gently and precisely.

She did not stop, fucking her slow and hard through it, driving her into aftershocks so fierce she thought for a moment that she might lose consciousness.

And then, nothing - Villanelle’s movements stopped, fingers withdrawing as she slumped forward on to Eve, crying out into her chest. She had hit her own orgasm, and Eve wrapped her arms around her shoulders to comfort her through it, still hazy and heavy.

There was a brief period of silence while the pair collected themselves, Villanelle unable to budge from Eve’s arms, Eve unwilling to release her. During that period, Gemma climbed on to the bed beside them, resting on her side. She watched quietly, asking for nothing nor interrupting their silence. Eve could see why she was Villanelle’s favorite; she was the perfect measure of cheeky and submissive for someone like her. She almost envied them for it, knowing that when she left they would still have one another and that she would be trapped once again in a marriage that she had never asked for to a man she had never loved.

The envy was short lived; she knew her lot in life, and the experience she had with the pair would keep her for years to come, she was sure.

Villanelle must have sensed her distance; she shifted off of her, laying on her other side and pulling Eve flush against her. Gemma moved in closer, and Eve tentatively brought her hand out to rest on her hip.

“Let me escort you to market again tomorrow, Madam.” She mumbled into her ear.

“Surely you aren’t leaving so soon? Stay a while.” Gemma asked, all big eyes and tender touches.

“Ah… Whatever you wish.” Eve conceded.

She was kissed from both sides, and trembled with delight.


End file.
